Safe Travels
by ltlerthqak
Summary: This is a place for me to put my little drabbles and flash-fics that I constantly write (but have never shared before). I have no posting schedule and no beta - this is just me, writing words when I get inspired.
1. Marquette

_So my beloved Caren was a guest judge for The Lemonade Stand's weekly Flash-Fic Friday, and her prompt had a plot bunny in my head within minutes. You can see the GIF at my Tumblr (same username, post#60493397098). That 300 word limit was tough for me, so I wrote what I wanted then cut it down. This is the full version. You can see the shortened version I posted in The Lemonade Stand post from 09/06/13. Heather preread and gave me the shove I needed to post my words._

_This is what happens when friends send me porn-y GIFs while I watch Brody Jenner do a backflip off a yacht in Greece. YOLO, all._

* * *

**MARQUETTE**

I crept along the wood floors, wishing I had grabbed my slipper-socks before leaving the bedroom. November in Marquette was much colder than I had expected, and the heavy snowfall earlier hadn't helped. I was freezing. I was also cranky and tired, but I desperately needed some Ibuprofen.

Fucking Edward and his gorgeous eyes and his "C'mon Bella, you know you want to." The man takes the whole YOLO concept to a whole other level.

The guy showed up with my brother for our yearly no-parents-allowed family vacation, all cocky smile and wicked sense of humor. But then, when we ended up alone in the kitchen, he was so sweet and charming, asking me about my plans after I graduated from ASU in May and helping me make lunch for everyone. I liked him...and if his flirty banter was any indication, I was pretty sure he liked me, too.

He thought all of us jumping off the upper deck of the cabin into the snowbank would be a great way to end our first night of vacation. His back-flip from the rail had my heart racing in fear and, to be honest, a little lust. He was beautiful and athletic - arching his long body as he slowly flipped in the air, his wavy hair whipping around his face, the killer grin he shot me as he landed ass-first in the huge mound of snow below.

My jump didn't end nearly as well. I landed too far to the side and smacked my wrist on the picnic table buried in the snow. Embarrassed and a little pissed at myself, I had avoided everyone when I got back from the E.R., but the pain was getting worse. I just had to make it to the kitchen, then I could head back upstairs to my comfy bed.

I tiptoed down the stairs, navigating by feel as my eyes began adjusted to the dark. I hadn't wanted to turn on a light knowing Edward and Jasper were sleeping in the great room. I spun around the banister at the bottom of the stairs, intending to slip into the kitchen quickly to find the pills, but a soft grunt stopped me in my tracks. I glanced across the room at the futon but it was empty. Hearing another noise, I peeked around the corner into the small office, not knowing what to expect.

Good...fucking...God.

Edward - on the couch - in nothing but his boxer briefs...head back, jaw clenched, eyes closed. His body practically glowed in the moonlight coming through the skylight, and I was helpless, unable to resist staring at the scene before me. That chest, those arms, those abs - everything about him was long and lean, sinuous and almost feline. His arms shifted down, his ab muscles quivering, both hands disappearing under the black cotton fabric as he released a delicious moan. One hand slid back up enough to catch the elastic band, pushing it down over his hip, revealing the round head of his...

Oh my God, his hand was on his cock.

I shifted to the left, trying to hide a bit behind the door frame, but I didn't leave. I knew I shouldn't be watching him, but I couldn't look away. The way his muscles contracted when his fingers wrapped around himself...the sighs and grunts as his arm moved faster...the frantic way he used one hand to push the fabric further over his hips so he could reach down to tug on his balls. Every move, every sound, went straight to my clit, and I began to feel the telltale tingling of arousal between my legs.

Edward jacking-off was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.

Just another minute, then I would leave. I had to see his face, needed to know what it looked like when he finally reached his peak. He was practically growling as he worked himself with both hands, his legs twitching and flexing as his cock slipped in and out of his fist. I could feel the tension in the air, practically taste it, and I knew he was almost there. Just a couple more tugs, a few more grunts, another…

I almost moaned as I watched him come all over his abs, his hand slowing but never stopping, stroking through his orgasm as his breathing hitched. I slid my eyes back up his body, noting the white puddles all over his stomach, the way his chest expanded when he inhaled, how his nipple ring glinted with every exhale as it caught the moonlight from above. He licked his lips, and my eyes darted up, shocked to see his eyes open, watching me as I watched him. I was too turned on to be embarrassed, too flushed and breathless to even pretend I hadn't seen. A slow smile spread across his face as I took a deep, shuddering breath, and I returned it as I stepped slowly into the office and closed the door behind me.

.

.

* * *

_I spent one of the coldest winters in a century in Marquette, Michigan. It in the Upper Peninsula on Lake Superior, and it is COLD there. Lots of snow, lots of cloudy days, some really cool lava rock formations to jump off in the summer, and psychotic moose. Did you know moose are territorial and aggressive? Neither did I... until I decided going moose-tracking was a good idea. Good thing I could run fast. _


	2. Grosse Ile

_I noticed a tweet from Geekchic12ff today to take part in a weekly flash fic contest. The moment I saw the second prompt, I knew exactly what I wanted to write. You can see the GIF at my Tumblr (same username, post#61075554510). The weekly contest can be found at fanficflashfic dot blogspot dot com. _

_If I thought of this as Twi-fic, I would write this as Brady/Colin slash. _

* * *

**Grosse Ile**

Terrified. That's the only word to describe this feeling. It's dark in the back of the auditorium, and I'm standing next to the boy I've been dying to kiss for three months, wishing I had the guts to reach out and just grab his hand. It's become this crazy need, this weight in my chest that never leaves. Whenever we spend time together, I want to touch him, feel him, maybe even someday kiss him. I want him to be mine, and I want to be his. I know he's scared of what people will say, but being with him would be worth any hatred ignorant people would throw our way.

Being with him is worth everything.

My need to feel his skin finally pushes the fear back. I'm going to do it…I have to. I slowly move my hand toward his, our index fingers brushing. It's barely a glance, but I see the way his body tenses, hear how his breath catches.

When he doesn't pull back, I shift closer. He hesitates, that second seeming more like an hour in my mind, but then he responds, opening his hand to mine, our fingers finally weaving together.

.

.

* * *

_Grosse Ile is an island in the Detroit River near where I grew up in Michigan. I rode ponies on the island as a child and got felt up by a guy named Bob when I was quite a bit older. Good times._


	3. Las Vegas

_I was reading a fic (shocking...I know), and the author had Jasper playing poker. I can't remember the name of it but there was a line that was like "Being an empath made him quite the successful poker player" and this fic instantly plotted itself out in my head. Oddly, if I were to write this as full-length, this scene would be close to the end. Funny how that happens._

_Thanks so much to bethroann and LauraLoo77 for looking this over when I freaked out about "writing without a net." _

* * *

**Las Vegas**

It was finally over.

I wandered through the quiet casino alone, relieved to finally be liberated from the looks of sympathy and concern, from painful reminders of things better left in the past, from disappointment and the profound sense of something missing that had been haunting me for years. I was a little sad to know I was walking away from the Cullens, from what had been my vampire family, a little scared to be walking away from the world I had been burned into.

But I was downright thrilled to be walking away from the "happy couple."

Most of the gaming tables were closed, the casino floor relatively empty. It had to be after three in the morning. Most humans were tucked up in their rented beds, sleeping off their successes and failures, their gains and losses. In a few hours, the tables and slot machines would be crowded, the floor packed with people trying to win back what they'd lost or excited to start their vacation. I hated the casinos during the day and evening…but there was something almost soothing about the silence at this hour. It drew me in, made me wander restlessly through the tall machines and felt-covered tables, had me following the brightly patterned carpet as if it would lead me someplace or to something meaningful. As if I was moving toward something instead of away.

So far, it had only led me deeper into the belly of the empty and endless casino floor.

Two more turns and a few steps down, I startled as I heard the murmur of quiet conversation. I moved toward the sound, in the direction of a brightly lit space sectioned off from the main casino. A masculine chuckle caught my attention, familiar in its tenor, immediately bringing forth a feeling of comfort and warmth within me. Things that had been missing from my existence for far too long. My feet moved of their own accord, every ounce of my attention completely focused on the possibility in the room ahead - the hope that he'd be there dragging me forward; the fear that he wouldn't slowing me down.

The discreet sign to the side of the doorway notified passersby of the private, high-stakes poker game going on inside. One of the double doors was open, light spilling onto the starburst pattern under my feet as I leaned to look inside. Four well-dressed men sat around a gaming table, cards in hand, serious expressions in place. Multi-colored chips were stacked in front of each of them, the largest pile belonging to the only man who mattered.

Jasper Whitlock...no longer Hale or Cullen... sat at a slight angle to me, straddling the front corner of his seat, one long leg stretched slightly to the side. His head was angled just so, keeping the tabletop and the other players in his sight-line, giving me the perfect view of his long neck and sharp jawline, his silvery scars peeking over his starched collar. I watched as he tapped his fingers against the tabletop, the dealer sliding two cards his way. He offered no reaction to his changing hand, not a twitch or a tell. The epitome of discipline.

He gave no indication that he'd heard me, that he had any idea I was there even though I knew he had to sense me. His indifference to my proximity, while surprising and somewhat hurtful, gave me an extra moment to look him over. He wore a black tuxedo, though he'd abandoned the jacket and tie at some point. His top two shirt buttons were open, his sleeves rolled up, the fabric only slightly rumpled. Deliberately casual, unfailingly confident and completely in control.

The exact opposite of the last time I saw him.

The memory of the night he'd let go of that control - the one time in almost a century he'd disobeyed the logic that normally ruled his existence, and simply submitted to the emotions of the moment - made my breath hitch and my eyes sting with excess venom. I began to wonder if everything I remembered from that night - the unwavering passion, the whispered words of devotion, the promises and pleas - was somehow wrong...if what I thought of as a potential for forever had only been meant to last those few hours before we ripped ourselves to pieces.

Seconds...minutes...hours ticked by as I watched him play his hand, his eyes never leaving the game, his attention never wavering. Pain and hopelessness bubbled up inside me, smothering what little relief I had experienced since realizing the hell I'd been living was finally over.

Since watching Edward and Maggie exchange their vows of forever.

Before I could drown in the deluge of lost time and regret over impossible decisions, a foreign sense of calm crept over me. A soft growl vibrated through my chest as I took a step back, the unnatural emotion making me uneasy. Before I could take a second step in retreat, the calm shifted, grew stronger. A new emotional climate washed over me, swirled around me, wrapped me in a blanket of warmth I'd never felt before. I recognized it for what it was, though, knew it was Jasper telling me what I needed to know without words. The threads of the individual emotions weaved together, forming a strong, thick rope of feeling, pulling my soul where it needed to be.

Hope...longing...desire...loneliness...relief...an xiety...need. But the biggest one, the thickest and strongest strand in the rope, was the overwhelming feeling of love being sent my way. Jasper's love for me - beautiful, strong, and endless in its intensity.

"Winner," the dealer barked, making me jump back once more. As the men began to grumble and exchange quiet words once again, Jasper's head snapped up, his amber eyes meeting mine...and I was lost. Drowning in memories, reliving a pain that had never ebbed, I focused on the feelings coursing through me, communicating to him all I needed to. How much I had missed him...how much I wanted him...how much I had loved him every day we'd been forced apart.

A lazy grin spread across his handsome face, plush lips giving way to pristine white teeth as I took a step closer. He pushed away from the table, whispering to the dealer, never looking away from me. I began to purr as his scent washed over me - strong and masculine with a touch of spice. My smile grew as he came closer, his long, hard body gliding effortlessly across the room, his hips shifting with each step. Everything about him spoke to the aura of masculinity he radiated. He moved with the power of a leader, like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Like strength and confidence and sex. He moved like sex.

As he finally reached me, as he ran his finger down my arm, his skin meeting mine for the first time in what seemed like forever, I sighed and leaned into him. There were no words needed, no platitudes or apologies required. We spoke with our emotions, eyes locked, lips curving in matching smiles. We both knew how this would end...or perhaps it would be better said how this would begin.

Because six years was a long time to deny your mate.

* * *

Vegas...where men can very convincingly be women, prostitutes can be really nice while buying you drinks, and you can get a fried Twinkie at 3am. Not that I have personal experience with any of that.


End file.
